


Dusty

by ThemSoundwaves



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fellswap (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Child Abandonment, Focuses on Red, Homeless Child, Not to be confused with Dusttale Sans, OC Dusty, Red didn't ask for this, Small cast, Sorry guys its just how i write, but hes doing it anyway, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-08-23 06:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20237911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThemSoundwaves/pseuds/ThemSoundwaves
Summary: Red comes across a homeless child one night on his way home from work.He made the mistake of feeding the frail thing.Now it won't leave him alone.His life just got a whole lot more complicated.Inspired by Sonamyluffer101 ‘s story Izzy.][^ link.  https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234572 ][Like no plot, Totally winging it for fun between other stories][Also, this takes place around 25 years after the barriers fall]





	1. Don't Feed Strays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Going through edits-

**9:55 P.M. **

He had five minutes, he could survive five more minutes of this shit. 

Red stood behind his register, wearing the stupid extra large beige uniform the store had given him. He looked like a fuckin' Ghost Buster. Sans had set him up with this job, entirely tired of Red _ ' rotting away' _ at home doing nothing but _ 'wasting his life' _ playing video games. He hated every second of it, and It made him sick, he'd rather be back at his post in Snowdin, at least then he could get away with doing absolutely nothing.

**9:56.**

Four minutes.

He just wanted to get the fuck out.

A lady carrying a basket of about 600 items waddled up to his register despite the two open ones closer to the isle she exited.

_ Fuckin' god damnit. _

He spoke, the same words he did every damn second of the day as she approached and started depositing her items onto the counter.

"hi, how are ya?" Red drawled.

"I'm great! How are you?" 

_ Terrible. _

"doin' well. can I getcha anythin' else?" His look was passive, barely wavering the entire time. When he finished scanning, his eye lights darted to the register's clock.

**10:02.**

_ God damnit_. 

"Uh yes, actually."

_ God fucking damnit. _

"I was looking at your soda selection, and I couldn't help but notice you were out of 20oz Coke. Do you happen to have any in the back?" Red blinked at her question. If they had any in the back, they would've stocked it. 

"ah'on't think so, ma'am." Red replied evenly, setting her items in a bag. She glared at him; Red had to resist the urge to bash his face against the countertop. 

"Can you go look?" 

The urge was becoming harder to resist. 

"if we had it in the back it would have been stocked. I'm sorry ma'am, we must be out."

**10:05. **

The woman sighed with a small 'oh.' She began gathering up her bags. "yer totals 57.89." Red monotoned. The woman took a minute too long to stuff her dumb credit card into the card reader — just a couple more seconds.

“Oh, wait! I forgot.” 

A small crack came from the scanner Reds fingers were coiled around, his broad smile became strained at the edges. One of his co-workers saw the fissure from where she was at. She glanced at the clock, her blonde eyebrows scrunched. She swiftly scurried over to him, apparently, knowing the Monsters antics. 

“I got it from here, Red.”

“‘bout fuckin’ time.” Said skeleton muttered under his breath, he quickly skirted around the woman, and made haste to the back room to clock out.

-

Sans spoke against using his teleportation in public, so Red was forced to walk home. He was glowering the entire way, muttering profanities under his breath, kicking viciously some garbage in his way. He held a bag with a premade sandwich in one hand and a bottle of mustard in the other: he’d been too eager to get home to spend any more than a minute looking for his dinner.

At least his home isn’t too far. If he walked fast, he could make it there and still have time to join his team’s raid. 

In his hustle to return home, Red didn’t notice the half-full water bottle at his feet until he’d nearly broke his face tripping over it. He was lucky that no one was around to see his fall.

Angry, embarrassed, and full of rage, Red growled out the word ‘bitch’ as he kicked the offending item into a side ally. Now, because of his history of gaming, Red was used to hearing objects reacting to his fury; in real life, though? He wasn’t expecting the resulting ‘Oof’ that came from the ally afterwords. Curious, the skeleton sidestepped and peered into the ally. It was dark, but the light from the nearest lamppost brightened all that he needed to see.

There was a kid, a young boy with dirty blonde hair, wearing tattered rags, he sat on what looked like an old winter jacket, rubbing his forehead. The offending water bottle sat a few inches away, still rolling from the force of the kick. The boy looked up at him, the deadliest of looks on his face.

“heh, sorry, kid.” The child continued to glare, as Red took in his appearance. He was skinny, too skinny, and he couldn't have been over fifteen. If Red didn't feel bad enough over hurting the poor thing, he now felt even worse, knowing almost instantly that this kid was homeless. The kid stared at Red like he owed him something, and in a way, the skeleton did. He _had_ just punted a water bottle into his face.

So he did the only thing he thought he could do. He sighed out longly, like what he was about to do would cause the world to fall into catastrophe. Red reached into his bag and unwrapped his sandwich. The kid instantly perked up, back straightening, he reached out.

“yeah, yeah. take m'shit.” red mumbled, holding the sandwich out to him, the child snagged it greedily and began ripping into it with his little teeth, swallowing entire bites without chewing. Red watched the whole thing; deep down, he felt terrible for the poor kid. How long had it been since he’d eaten? 

The boy coughed, hunching over, clearly choking on his last bite. Red wasted no time uncapping the mustard and holding it out to the child: he took it, and downed several gulps of the condiment, earning a look of surprise from the skeleton. Did he even notice what he was eating? 

The child calmed down shortly after. He looked up at Red with sparkling eyes. Red didn’t like that look, it made him feel weird. “you can keep it.” he said, gesturing to the mustard bottle. The child blinked. 

There, his good deed for the day was done: now he could go home and brag to Sans about how he wasn't a total piece of shit. Red started walking away; he heard the scuffling of little feet behind him. He turned. There the boy was, the old jacket thrown over his shoulder, with the bottle of mustard hugged tightly to his tiny chest. Red stopped and looked at him pointedly. 

“i ain’t got anything else.” 

The boy nodded.

Red started walking again; several steps later, there was the crunch of garbage beneath bare feet. He looked back again.

The kid was still there.

He chose to ignore him this time. He was hurrying down the street at a faster pace, hoping to outwalk the child enough for him to give up and go back to his spot in the ally. Finally, when he reached the steps of the skeletons’ shared home, he dared to look behind him. 

Yup, he was still there. Dirty, smelly, and practically vibrating with excitement. Red knew there was no way out of it now. 

“god damnit, red.” he said to himself. He held out a single finger to the boy, glaring harshly at him. “stay.” Red commanded, which earned nothing but a clueless blink. Something churned in the depth of his nonexistent stomach. Did he know English? 

He cracked opened the door to the house. The kid took a few steps foreword.

Apparently not.

“here?” The boy finally spoke, he pointed to the spot next to the stairs. Red didn’t care. He didn’t want the kid in the house. What would the others say? Edge would probably go into a laughing fit at the thought of bringing a stray home. 

_ A stray. _

Did he compare this poor homeless _ child _to a stray animal? 

“goddamnit,” Red grunted out, frustrated. He trudged down the steps and grabbed the boy's filthy hand. 

Filthy, but soft. So very… weirdly soft. 

“ya say a word n’ yer out, kid.” he replied. The teleport to Red’s room was quick. The boy barely looked phased. Once inside the skeleton instantly let go of his hand, Red pointed to the cleanest corner of its room.

“stay. there,” He commanded.

“There?” the boy mirrored, walking over to the corner. Red nodded in confirmation. “don't leave this room, got it?” He added, the child nodded briskly, just happy to be somewhere other than the street, he sat down his gross jacket and curled up into it, Red heard the tiniest noise of happiness escape his ips.

He quickly teleported back to his front door and walked in casually, like he did every day coming home from work. 

The hell was he getting himself into.


	2. Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I decided to do some editing and merging with this story. I'm squishing chapters two and three together.

Red walked in huffing like he’d run twelve miles and counting. He was still pretty flabbergasted over his split-second choice. He passed by the living room on his way to the kitchen, hearing both Sans and Stretch casually talking on the couch, Edge would most likely be in his room, and Blueberry was probably asleep giving he had school in the morning. 

Unfortunately, the drawback of rescuing a homeless person was remembering the fact that he had to take care of it now. He’d get some food in the kid, have him shower, and put into a change of clothes; then, he’d start questioning the boy. Tomorrow? He planned on taking t him to the nearest orphanage, or home if he had one. Red leaned over the fridge, thankful for the generally pleasant smell of leftovers: Stretch must’ve cooked dinner that night, and Red was grateful. He grabbed two plates and hurried up the stairs to his room without a word.

Sans watched him go briefly but thought nothing of it. Red had always been a tad bit antisocial, and a grumpy prick when getting home late from work. He’d make a b-line straight to his room every night; Red was thankful for that routine; it avoided confrontation.

He stopped by the laundry room, quietly picking through the baskets. Papyrus was the mother of the mini-mansion [given to them by the government after the fall] So Red knew there would be fresh clothes in there.

He snagged up some of Blueberries items giving, Blue was the smallest out of them all and would probably have the only clothes that would fit the youngling. After searching for a set Red knew the small skele wouldn't miss, he finally slipped into his room and closed the door. 

He’d just turned to take a look at his room. The kid was staring right at him from the second he'd walked in, looking impossibly small with his skinny body curled up in that jacket. He looked like a dog in a dog bed.

Red took one look at that hopeful spark in his eyes; but had to move his gaze to the opposite wall, fuck, he couldn't stand that loving look. All he did was give him food and a place for the night, and It was no big deal.

He tossed the clothes at the child, succeeding in covering the boy's form with its entirety. 

The kid poked his head out from the pile, and Red pointed to a small door attached to his room. He was lucky enough to have nabbed one of the bedrooms with its own half bathroom.

“go on n’take a shower n’get dressed.” He ordered, setting the leftovers down on the dresser that held his TV. “then ya can eat.” 

The boy stared at him, unmoving. Red groaned a little, and though the others were far enough away, he still struggled to keep his voice down.

He walked over to the bathroom door and popped it open, then pointed inside. “shower.” 

He then knelt beside the dirty thing, trying his best to hold his breath so he wouldn't have to smell him~ Red picked at the blue shirt covering his top half. “dressed.” he continued. Then, he stood once more and wandered back over to his TV, pointing directly down at the food. “then eat.” 

Was that simplified enough for him? 

The sandy-haired kid finally moved, he shuffled out from beneath the clothes and gathered them up in his arms his tiny feet slapped against the wooden floor, he disappeared into the bathroom leaving the door open. Red grumbled to himself as he closed it for the kid. 

He checked the small clock next to his bed. It was almost 11 now. He opened up his laptop and let it boot up, At least it was Friday, He refused to work weekends, and often holed up in his room, only coming out for food during the short two days he had to himself. The shower began running, and Red peeked over to the door. The child had gone against Red's wishes and cracked open the bathroom door despite the skeleton closing it. Red rolled his eyes but did nothing.

-

As it turned out, his team had canceled the night raid, because the leader had to stay late to work; this made Red feel less like an ass for being so late himself. The shower shut off around fifteen minutes later, and the child came out, looking way too small in Blueberries clothes, he stood in front of the door, swaying on his feet like standing was too much work for him. Same kid, Red knew that feeling well. 

Red got up and pointed to the bed. “sit.” he brought the two plates of leftover food over, and handed one to him, supplying a plastic fork in the process. Red sat tentatively on the bed beside him, keeping a giant gap between the two of them.

The kid picked at the plastic fork in his hand, and Red watched, mildly horrified, as he tried eating the fucking thing. 

Red reached out and swatted the item away before he broke his tiny teeth on it. 

“Its a fork, kid.you use it to eat,” he said gruffly, using his fork he showed the boy how to use it. The child watched him intently, and mirrored his actions, stabbing it into the meat and eating what was on its end: it didn’t seem to be enough to defeat his hunger, though. The blue-eyed child quickly abandoned the silverware in favor of wolfing the food down with his fingers. 

It fell awkwardly quiet. The sound of Red's laptops' hammering fan being the only noise in the room. 

Alright, let’s get this over with.

This time, he automatically simplified his sentence. “name?”

He stared at Red, that clueless look on his face. Red slowly reached out and tapped his chest. “red.” then, he poked the boy's chest, face scrunching when his finger made contact with bone. “you.”

The kid shrugged.

Red grunted, he, for probably the first time, took in the child's features with concerned eyes, his eye lights darting over every piece of him. He needed a name; he couldn't keep calling the thing “the child.” or “the boy.” his red eye lights landed on the kid's sandy, but now clean hair.

“dusty.” Red supplied, tapping the boy's chest again. “yer names dusty.”

“Dusty?” Dusty repeated, testing the word in his mouth, he grinned up at Red, accepting it. 

“yup, ‘cuz yer hair looks like dust.” Dusty reached up and dragged a hand through his hair with his gross food covered fingers, if Red had a nose, it would’ve curled at the display. Dusty made a small happy sound as he lifted the plate and licked it clean. 

“ya gotta home?” red continued, he used his fork to separate half the food on his plate, he scraped the smaller half onto Dusty's empty plate: Red did this unconsciously, without really realizing he’d done it. When he did, he just shrugged at his actions. The kid needed it more than him.

Dusty promptly pointed to the corner of the room, seeming startled by the sudden appearance of more food on his plate, he dove in with his other hand, still pointing. 

Guess that answered that question. 

“parents?” 

Dusty did not outwardly respond to that.

“mom, dad?” Red prompted, finishing his plate, he set it on his nightstand; to sit there until he decided to return it downstairs. There was already a small pile of dishes forming on random flat surfaces in his room. 

“No,” Dusty replied, handing the skeleton his now empty plate. The kid looked exhausted after his meal, eyelids dragging closed, Red found himself staring at his little round face. He could easily be four times bigger than the boy. He was so damn… small and dare he think it… Cute.

By the time Red sat Dusty's plate down on top of his own, the child was already lying down and half-asleep in his spot on Reds bed. That was enough questioning for the night. Dusty clearly needed some sleep. He did his best to slip the blankets out from under The youngling, so he could cover his body with it, having minor flashbacks to when he’d done the same to his baby bones brother. Satisfied with his work, Red returned his laptop on his lap and played some games for a few hours. He grew tired by the third hour and started making a nest of blankets on the floor for himself. His bed was comfortable, and he missed it already, but it was only for one night. Red drifted to sleep, his soul feeling just a little lighter. 

Red had a dreamless, restful sleep.

-

Red was, usually, a heavy sleeper. It took more than one Papyrus, on most occasions, to wake him from his slumber. 

It was Saturday morning, and no one would be waking him, he doubted they'd even come in his room. Alas, as massive of a sleeper that the skeleton was, it took no more than a few touches to rouse him this time.

Something was touching his face. Something tiny. Like little fleshy fingers just... Feeling the ridges along his eye sockets. Red grumbled. 

_ Stop it, boss. _

_ Too tired for your weird exploring. _

Red swatted the hand away and turned his back to whom he assumed was Boss. He was expecting his brother to give up, as usual, but the tiny fingers came again, this time petting the base of his skull. 

He didn't realize he was purring at the touch until a familiar, young voice spoke beside him.

"Kitty purrs." He giggled. 

Red jolted up in his bed, scrambling away from the voice. Dusty was there, staring at him, laying in his nest of blankets. 

Had he slept with him? 

What happened to the damn bed? 

"wat." Red stuttered out, stumbling a bit, he braced himself on the bed frame. It was too early for him to be making such active movements; it had him feeling pretty dizzy. 

"Red purrs." Dusty repeated, grinning up at him. He then mimicked the sound, wrapping one of Red's blankets around him. 

"stop tha'," Red demanded, the fierce tone lacked any real reprimanding. Dusty glared at his appointed savior. The look said it all: It would be forgotten for now… but later? 

"did'ya sleep on the bed?" Dusty shook his head no, and pointed at the nest. He snuggled deeper into the pile, making weird little noises. 

The thought that he'd been sleeping with a child had his metaphorical skin crawling. Stars, if anyone had walked in on that, Red couldn't imagine the kind of assumptions they'd be making.

He'd only be here this once, so Red choose to push those thoughts back into the depths of his mind. It was okay; nothing happened. He wasn't a freak or a pedophile.

Dusty’s glare warped into a brief look, he stared down at his hands and started picking at the skin on his fingers, which already looked pretty damaged. Red was well awake now, but he didn’t feel any grogginess dragging him down. It must be nearing midday. Red quickly became lost in his thoughts as he looked at Dusty lying in his blankets, the kid's skin was pale, nearly as white as his bones. There were brighter white scars on his arms and neck, tiny, none longer than a woman's fingernail; there were quite a few of them, but not enough to make Red worry about any… other kinds of damage. There was a deep, never-ending sadness resting in the pits of his shockingly blue eyes that Red recognized in himself, he’d been on the street long enough in his age not to know how to eat correctly, or speak properly. He had more questions then he cared to admit, part of him wanted to know everything.

Why was a kid his age lying in the dirt begging for food on the street?

Where are his parents?

Why is he by himself?

Why was he the first to do something about it? 

Red patted down the tee-shirt he’d slept in, ever so slowly, he maneuvered around the nest to sit next to the boy engulfed by the blankets. It felt weird, being so close to someone he barely knew, but part of him understood… This kid needed contact. Red didn’t want to be the one to deliver it, but for now, he was all Dusty had. He had to be responsible with this.

Like Sans had once said. He had to grow up sometime. He couldn't be a cold, traumatized asshole forever.

He had to put in the effort to be better. 

Otherwise, he'd never feel safe.

“so.” Red began, causing the frail child to look up instantly at the sound of his voice.

“how old are ya?”

“Twelve.” He replied confidently. Red was taken aback for a single moment: He was pretty tall for his apparent age. Red would've guessed thirteen or fourteen. He rolled his tongue around in his mouth, thinking of how to put his words.

“how long, In the street?” Dusty shifted uncomfortably.

“Four?” it was more of a question than an answer, and it only left Red more confused. 

“four… what?” he prompted.

“Eight?” Red bit back a groan, he didn’t feel like doing the math right now. His digits flexed at his sides, gripping his pants. 

“eight what?” 

“Thirteen!” Dusty erupted loudly with a few giggles, he scrambled off the nest and literally jogged to the corner of the room, and back, he jumped face-first into the pillows and rolled onto his back, Red had to shift out of the way to avoid getting smacked in the face by his foot on the way down. He palmed his face. Edge was nothing like this as a kid.

He wasn’t getting anything out of this. 

Besides, Dusty and himself needed food. The twelve-year-old had way too much energy, and staying in this room would make his it worse. The last thing Red needed was someone poking around wondering what the random sounds were. He'd go out, let him burn through some energy, and get some snacks, then? It was to the nearest orphanage, so Dusty could finally find himself aright in a settled home... that wasn't between trashcans.

He stood up and held out his hand, shrugging a shoulder as he said. “c’mon, dust. les go somewhere.” Dusty slipped his fingers between Reds, excitement dancing across his face. Red held on a little tighter this time when he shortcuts. 

When they emerged a few blocks away from the house, He didn’t let go.


End file.
